


the sun, it does not cause us

by shinealightonme



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 15:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: If he does nothing he can't mess up.





	the sun, it does not cause us

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon on tumblr who prompted "pynch, I don’t like it when you cry."

The first time the sound wakes Adam up it takes him too long to figure out what's happening. Ronan isn't loud, just breathing raggedly and sniffing enough that Adam thinks he's coming down with something. He's about to offer to get him some water, or to complain about germs, when he recognizes the sounds Ronan is making, the sound of someone choking on suppressed sorrow, impossible to mistake for long.

Adam freezes.

What can he do? He can't mess this up.

If he does nothing he can't mess it up.

But if he does nothing than he leaves Ronan to cry alone --

And then it's too late to do anything. Ronan gets his breathing under control, rolls over and presses his hot wet face against the back of Adam's neck and wraps an arm around him. He gives no sign of realizing that Adam is awake.

Adam lies perfectly still and pretends to be asleep. It gives them both an out from having to do anything.

The second time is a few weeks later and he's lying on his back, eyes shut tight, but the fear and panic is exactly the same. He always felt like the politest thing to do with someone's pain was to ignore it. That was always what he'd wanted everyone to do for him.

But doing nothing, staring uselessly at the cold black inside of his eyelids, is godawful.

There has to be some middle ground, some way to offer comfort without either of them acknowledging it.

He rolls over in bed with a sleepy noise like he's only half-awake instead of heart pounding, reaching out as though unconsciously to curl up against Ronan -- but it's too late. Ronan gets up out of bed even as Adam's moving. He ends up sprawled over the empty side of the bed, listening to Ronan pad over to the bathroom and turn on the sink.

The third time, Ronan is already sitting up in bed with his legs bent, knees up against his chest. There's no way for Adam to "accidentally" cuddle up against him. There's no way that that's going to be enough.

"Ronan?"

His voice cracks. "Go back to sleep."

Adam pushes himself upright. "How do you expect me to do that?"

"Just close your eyes and lie down."

"I'll do it when you do."

Ronan breathes out sharply and turns his face away. "Why are you so annoying?"

Adam's heart is racing, _fuck, fuck, fuck_ , iambic meter, _you're fucking all this up._

"Because," he says. "I don't like it when you cry."

"Yeah, it's no fun for me, either."

Adam bites his lip. How can he stop fucking up, for one second -- 

"Do you want to talk about it?" he offers, knowing it's going to be rejected even before Ronan bites out a "no."

He shifts, angles his body toward Ronan, then hesitates.

Ronan breathes out, a wet harsh sound, and yanks Adam's arm until they crash into each other.

Adam presses his shoulder against Ronan's and shuts his eyes. This is helping. This has to be helping.

"I keep dreaming about my mom," Ronan says after a while. "She's sleeping, and she's just in the next room. Like I never woke her up. Like I never took her to Cabeswater and the demon never got her. And then I wake up and I fucked up all over again."

Adam opens his eyes. It doesn't help; nothing is helping. "I'd say it's just a dream, but I guess there's no such thing as just a dream with you."

"No shit."

Adam doesn't dislike this. He _hates_ it. It's all useless need with no direction and no impact, more intimately familiar to him than the person next to him in bed.

He's gotten better at leaving this feeling behind. In part _because_ of the person next to him in bed; because he's learned, somehow, to ask for help when he feels powerless.

He says, "I want to help you but I don't know how."

"Well fuck if I know."

Adam leans his head on Ronan's shoulder. Ronan turns toward him and lays his face against the top of it.

"You wanted your mom to have as much life as she could," Adam says. "That wasn't wrong. I agreed with it."

"Because we both make such great fucking decisions."

"When we work together, anyway."

Ronan doesn't answer that. They sit for a while, in the dark. Ronan traces his fingers over Adam's palm. Adam soaks up the achy ill feeling of being awake in the small hours of the morning, and no other feeling at all.

Ronan nuzzles at his hair, nuzzles again, more forcefully.

Adam frowns.

"Did you just wipe your nose on me?"

"You wanted to be helpful."

He pushes his leg against Ronan's thigh, hard enough to shove him toward the edge of the bed. "You're disgusting."

"You're the one with snot in his hair."

Adam figures that deserves a harder push to knock him off the bed, but Ronan just gracefully steps up off the bed and reaches for Adam's hand to tug him up, place his other hand on his hip. It's both suave and irritating.

Ronan pulls him into the bathroom. The curtains aren't drawn, and there's a little more light than the bedroom. He can make out some of the details on Ronan's face, overdrawn and haunted. It makes him think about crying when no one can hear you, pain that echoes back on itself in its loneliness.

"I'm sorry I can't help."

Ronan rolls his eyes and turns on the shower.

Adam rolls his eyes, too, and steps into the shower; apparently they're done talking about this.

Except Ronan steps into the shower behind him, wraps his arms around Adam's waist and puts his lips to Adam's ear.

"You do," and Adam doesn't even care when Ronan flicks the water over to ice cold.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this fic you can [reblog it on tumblr](http://toast-the-unknowing.tumblr.com/post/178605415070/i-was-just-about-to-post-the-first-prompt-response).


End file.
